


How He Lost His Hand

by Naughty_Yorick



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Happily Ever After on Tarth, Post-everything, Storytelling, feat. a whole bunch of kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 18:56:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20247706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naughty_Yorick/pseuds/Naughty_Yorick
Summary: Children ask questions. Lots of questions. Jaime is learning how to answer them (without terrifying them).





	How He Lost His Hand

The children want him to tell them stories.

Joanna is on the cusp of six, eager for bigger, more gruesome tales. Arthur, who begs every day to hear about the dragons, sits and watches as Jaime speaks. At all of four years old, he is enraptured, eyes wide and sparkling. Unlike his sister, he doesn't scream or cheer or laugh, but sits in silence, occasionally gasping, his hands pressed to his face.

Little Galladon, barely a year and a half old, doesn't understand the stories but listens anyway, pulling at his father's beard and giggling and clapping whenever Joanna squeals with excitement or more often, disgust. 

Children, Jaime's quickly learnt, are curious and insatiable. They noticed things, and they asked questions. Telling them stories about the fearsome Dragon Queen or the Northern direwolves felt easy because they could, to some extent, maintain a certain amount of detachment. It was easier, especially when the children were so young, to tell vague stories full of fearsome magic rather than tell them the specifics, tell them about a city razed to the ground. 

They often ask him how he lost his hand.

They're too young, too sweet, too _green_, to know the full story. One day he'll tell them – they'll tell them together, when they're old enough to understand. But for now, they don't need to know.

So he tells them a different story every time.

He tells them how Queen Daenerys’ largest dragon bit it off and ate it because he disturbed him while he was sleeping. He tells them how he fell onto the Iron Throne and simply sliced it off. He tells them that he sold it to a troupe of mummers who needed a prop. He tells them that he gave it to a wizard who promised to make him the greatest swordsman in all the Seven Kingdoms in exchange for his hand – but who never specified which hand he would be taking. This is why, he explains, you can never trust wizards.

Once, while Brienne sat nursing Galladon, he told them how he lost his hand to rescue their mother from an unhappy marriage. Brienne had raised her eyebrows at that, but listened anyway with a small smile as he described tricking a mean, unpleasant Lord who had demanded their mother's hand in marriage. He tells them – in suitably gruesome detail – how he sliced off his own hand, wrapped it in silk then presented it to the Lord in an ornate wooden box. When the Lord opened the box he was disgusted, and threw the hand to his dogs, demanding to know what jape they were subjecting him to. "But my Lord," Jaime had protested, "You demanded her hand; and I have given it to you! For I am hers, and so one of my hands is just as good as one of hers." The Lord had flown into a furious rage and had them removed from his castle and banned from his land. 

The children weren’t as fond of that tale - Joanna stuck her little tongue out and said it that there was too much romance and not _nearly_ enough dragons. Brienne had laughed, though, and after the children had rushed off to play and Galladon had drifted to sleep in her arms, she had kissed him, one hand pressed against his jaw, and thanked him for “saving” her.

The children are rarely out of one of their sights, and today Jaime is bouncing Galladon up and down on his hip as Arthur and Jo play at swords in their apartments. Brienne is absent - they've told the children their grandfather needs her to help him with the accounts, which means of course they aren’t keen to join her. Usually, Selwyn is a man of sweets and excitement...but he is also a man of numbers. Today, they would rather play than do sums.

Usually, Brienne doesn’t approve of swordplay indoors, but the children can tell that their father is a little distracted this morning and are taking advantage of the situation. It isn't until his back is turned - he's pointing out a particularly splendid lilac roller bird to Galladon, who's screeching "Bird! Bird!" – when there's a sudden crash and a high-pitched wail.

Jaime spins around and finds both children frozen to the spot, an ornate vase shattered on the stone floor between them and its contents – a bunch of what were once very pretty sunflowers – scattered before it in a puddle of water. Arthur is crying, big blobby tears spilling down his face.

Galladon finds himself being lowered down, where he totters towards his screaming brother. Jaime doesn't even need to ask what's happened – these sorts of breakages seen inevitable when his children are around. Instead, he squats down so he can look them both in the eye.

"Are you hurt?"

Arthur sniffs, a trail of snot inching out of his nose and towards his lips and holds out a hand in silence. There's a red mark across the knuckles; not too bad, but Jaime's sure there'll be a bruise in its place by the evening. Arthur mutters something. Joanna looks sheepish.

"What did you say, Art?" Jaime prompts, gently.

"…Jo hit me."

"I didn't mean to!" Joanna shouts, looking panicked. "I'm sorry, Art, I am; I didn't mean to!"

Jaime resists rolling his eyes. "You didn't mean to hit your brother with the sword you were trying to hit him with?"

Joanna looks to the ground, sullenly. "I was aiming for his _sword_. I didn't want to _hurt_ him."

"Look," says Jaime, "I know it was an accident. But sometimes if we play with swords we might…we might get hurt. Or we might hurt someone else." He tries not to let his face betray his feelings, the rush of memories of his own time_ playing with swords_. "Even if we don't mean to. So…we need to be more careful, okay? And remember that sometimes swords can be dangerous."

The two older children nod at him, and there's tears glistening in both their eyes now.

"How about we get this cleaned up before your mother comes back…and I won't tell her if you don't?" 

They peer up at him through wet eyelashes. Joanna begins to smile.

"And afterwards," He continues, "I'll tell you a story. About anything you want!"

That gets them. Soon, Arthur is collecting the spilled sunflowers while Joanna and Jaime carefully pick up the pieces of broken pottery. Soon, the mess is gone, carefully squirrelled away until Jaime can send someone to collect it later, and one of the less fine cushions has been sacrificed to mop up the water.

"There," he announces, standing up, "All done. No one need know."

Tears now all dried up and swords neatly stowed away, Arthur and Joanna look pleased with their work. Joanna sidles up towards her father.

"So…"

"Yes, my love?"

"Do we get a story now?"

"Of course. What do you want to hear about today?"

The children peer at each other, conspiratorially. "I want to know what happened to your hand." She says.

"That old one? Surely you're bored of that by now."

"Please!" Begs Joanna, “what really happened to your hand? What _really_ really happened?” 

He sighs. "What about you, Arthur? What do you want to hear about?"

His son looks at up at him with huge, serious eyes. "I want to know about the _bear_." 

"Well, I did promise." He says, scooping Galladon back into his arms. "You're very lucky, you know. I can tell you both stories at once." 

He lets them lead him to their favourite spot - a sunsoaked room on the ground floor of their apartments, overlooking the beach - and makes himself comfortable in the heap of cushions in the nook of the bay window. Galladon spills from his arms and settles himself in Jaime's lap, while Joanna and Art clamber up after him.

“When your mother and I were travelling, we were captured-” He begins, but is immediately cut off.

“By Locke!” Joanna shouts out, throwing an arm in the air.

“Yes, by Locke and his men at Harrenhal, that’s right. But because they knew that my - that _your_ grandfather would pay him very handsomely, they decided to let me go and send me home.” 

"But what about Mama?" Arthur looked up at him, aghast. Even though he knew his mother had escaped – that he had been begging her for cuddles not even an hour ago – he seemed to fear that she might still be there, still trapped, still a prisoner.

"Locke said he meant to keep her at Harrenhal, with him and his men."

Joanna frowns at him. "What did you do?"

Jaime at least has the good grace to look ashamed. "I…I left."

The children gape at him, horrified. They both open their mouths as if to start berating him, but he cuts them off before they get the chance.

"But I turned around!" He says, quickly, "I realised that I couldn't just leave your mother there, and that I owed her for saving my life. So I forced my men to turn around to go back to rescue her. But when I returned, I found a horrible sight."

"What was it?"

"Locke had thrown your mother into a pit with an enormous bear…and told her to fight it! But he was fond of cheating, so he had only given her a wooden sword, much like the ones you play with."

"But that's _not fair_!" 

"It wasn't fair, not at all. So do you know what I did?"

Arthur grins. "You leapt in to save her!" 

"I did! But the bear was fierce, and wild, and we couldn't fight him off. So I had to do something very clever – and you know I'm good at being very clever. We needed something to distract the bear, so we could attack it or escape – but what would could an angry, hungry bear be distracted by? And then I had an idea. So I grabbed the dagger that I had at my side and, acting quickly…"

Joanna and Arthur watch him, eyes wide. Even Galladon has stopped gurgling, his hands balled in the fabric of Jaime's shirt.

"…I cut my hand off!"

Joanna squeals. "You did not!"

"I did! It wasn’t a very sharp dagger, which is why we couldn't use it against the bear, but soon I'd managed to cut right through my wrist. Let me tell you, there was blood everywhere! Your mother thought I was mad, but I threw my hand as far as I could and as the bear was very hungry, he chased after it right away.

"But I can't throw very well with my left hand, so it didn't go very far, and the bear was on it in no time at all. He picked it up in his massive, shiny teeth…and swallowed it whole."

"_Whole?_"

"That's right! He didn't even chew it up. With his meal finished, he turned back to your mother and I. He'd been so quick that we hadn't had a chance to escape the pit, and now he'd had a taste of flesh…" he drops his voice to a low growl, and leans in, inches from the children's faces. "_He wanted more_."

Joanna giggles and Arthur gasps, his hands rushing up to cover his mouth in shock.

"So there we were, trying to climb up the sides of the pit, and this huge bear came thundering towards us, roaring like a dragon. He got closer and closer, and soon he was close enough that I could count all of his big yellow teeth, and then I realised…my hand felt _warm_.

"But how could that be, I thought, as my hand was no longer attached to my arm? Why could I still feel it? And then, my loves…I realised. That silly bear had been so hungry that he swallowed my hand _whole_…and because I'd only recently cut it off, and done such a fantastic job, I could still feel it. Which meant that my hand felt warm because it was _inside the bear_."

Joanna shrieks, horrified. "That's not true!"

"It is! Ask your mother, this is exactly how it happened. And it's true that you can still feel limbs or hands that get cut off, but only if the cut is clean, and even then, only for a few moments. But what I didn't know was that not only can you_ feel_ it…but you can _move_ it too.

"So as the bear came rushing at us, I quickly moved the hand up from his stomach and through his gullet and up to his throat and just as he was about to leap at your mother…"

He lets it hang, just for a second, enjoying their enraptured gazes.

"…he dropped down, dead." 

"What happened?" Whispered Arthur, blinking.

"I strangled him," said Jaime, easily. "I strangled him _from the inside_."

The children squeal, absolutely disgusted. Galladon giggles and squirms, clapping. 

"And so, with the bear suddenly dead, Locke and his men had no choice but to let us go. He _tried_ to make me pay for the bear, but I refused: If the bear had chewed his food a little more nicely, I wouldn't have been able to strangle him. It was his fault for not teaching his bear better manners."

"Is that _really_ true?" Says Joanna, with a little frown.

"Of course it is! If you don't believe me, ask your mother."

"Ask me what?"

Jaime looks up as the children shriek, leap down from the heap of cushions and rush over to the other side of the room, where Brienne has just entered. Jaime follows, with Galladon squirming to reach his mother.

"Mama!" Yells Arthur, buzzing with excitement, "Tell us about the bear!"

She raises her eyebrows at Jaime, who shrugs. "We’ve been learning all about Locke's bear."

"I see…" She looks down at the children, "I will tell you about the bear…later. I've brought someone to see you."

She steps aside, and reveals Selwyn following her. The children are even more excited to see their grandfather, and rush past Brienne to get to him. 

"Your grandfather and I were wondering if you might like to spend the rest of the day down on the beach?" She asks, kneeling down, "We can take some food, and-"

Joanna cuts her off. "Can we take our swords?"

She sighs. "Yes, you can take the swords; if you're _very_ careful. What do you think?"

There's a lot of enthusiastic nodding, and Arthur rushes off to grab their wooden weapons. 

"Well then," Selwyn says, stepping forwards, "how about we go down to the kitchens and see if we can get Teressa to prepare a feast for us?"

"Do you think she'll have lemon cakes?" Asks Arthur, passing one of the swords to his sister.

"We can only hope she does." He looks at Brienne with a wry smile that does not go unnoticed, then turns to usher the children away. "I'm sure she was baking bread this morning," He says, "If we're quick it may still be warm."

Arthur reaches up and grabs his grandfather's hand while Joanna leads the way, skipping down the hallway. As the trio turn the corner, they can hear Arthur demanding lemon cakes. Once they’re gone, Brienne takes Galladon from Jaime's arms and rests him on her hip.

"I walked into him on my way back," She says offhandedly, by way of an explanation. "And he suggested the beach. I think the accounts are driving him mad…"

"And the cure for madness is a day playing squire to our two?"

"Curing madness with more madness…it might work." She says. "Did they ask after me?"

"No; I think they were worried if they did I'd force them to do _lessons_." He pauses for a moment, giving her a meaningful look. She ignores him. Finally, he cannot bear it any more. "_Well_?" 

She looks up at him coyly, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards. "Well what?"

"What did…" He realises, suddenly, that he's scared – that he's terrified. That their hopes may all be dashed. He composes himself quickly. "What did Maester Dallen say?"

She bites her lip; a futile attempt to stop the smile spreading across her face, and she doesn't say anything – just nods. The simple gesture sends sparks running up and down Jaime's spine.

"So you're…"

"I am."

Jaime can't hold in his excitement and rushes forward, pulling his wife into an embrace and a kiss, Galladon looking confused between them. 

"He's sure?" He says, breaking the kiss, looking into her bright blue eyes.

"Absolutely sure."

He wants to tell her how incredible she is; how much of a gift their life together is. But he can't find the words, could never do justice to this buzzing, bubbling feeling, so instead kisses her again, enjoying the feeling of her smiling against his lips.

A sudden thought strikes him. "Did you tell…"

"No!" She looks a little offended, "Of course I didn't. I wanted you to know first. As always. Although…" She pauses, "He might _suspect_; how often does he see me away from you or one of the children?" She thinks for a moment. "If he asks, we probably should tell him…but if not, we can wait. Perhaps a moon's turn. It's still so early...and he’s got these new trade routes to settle, and talks with King’s Landing..." 

He watches her as she speaks, transfixed. She spots him staring. "What?"

"I…" He shakes his head, "You are _phenomenal_." 

Her cheeks turn pink, and he laughs, amazed that he can still make her blush after all these years. 

"I'm not _pheno_-" She begins, but he cuts her off with another kiss, much to Galladon's displeasure. 

"You make me _feel_ phenomenal." He says, aware that tears are beginning to creep into his eyes, "You…you changed my life, Brienne. And you _keep_ changing it. I love you, my knight, my lady, my wife…more than I can say, I think."

There are tears in her eyes too, now, and he brushes them away with his thumb. "Jaime…"

"Come on," He says, softly, "we can't keep them waiting. We should make sure they've not gotten themselves into any trouble. The children or your father. Let's make the most of the next few months of peace and quiet…"

She raises her eyebrows at that.

"_Comparative_ peace and quiet, then." He smiles, "Hopefully they've managed to find some lemon cakes…"

She smiles, re-positions Galladon on her hip and lets him lead her from the room, their fingers entwined.

"By the way," she says, as they make their way down the airy corridor, "who broke the urn?"

He begins to stutter out a mumbling response, but she cuts him off.

"Don't worry," she says, "I won't tell father if you don't. What happened to 'no swords indoors', hmm?"

"I had other things to worry about!"

She squeezes his hand. "You don’t need to worry about me."

"Ah, but you see: I do anyway."

A warm, salty breeze drifts in through the open windows that line the passage. From somewhere deeper in the hall, they can hear Selwyn's booming guffaw, and the ringing laughter of their children.


End file.
